


What He Gets

by kinksock22



Series: What He.../Swesson [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Barebacking, Bottom Sam, Coming Untouched, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff, Insecure Sam, Kink Negotiation, Light Angst, M/M, Schmoop, Sub Sam, Swesson, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/kinksock22
Summary: Just when Sam thinks he's screwed things up with Dean completely, is sure that he has lost him, Dean surprises him. Then they finally have a long overdue talk.





	What He Gets

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry it's taken so long to update this. Hopefully those who have been waiting so patiently will enjoy it. Fair warning though, it ended up really, really fluffy and schmoopy.

Sam isn't surprised when Dean is a little cold toward him the rest of the weekend. He's not out-right cruel – Sam doesn't think he would be – but he's distant and Sam can see the disappointment in his eyes, can see the questions on the tip of his tongue. On more than one occasion Sam sees him open his mouth, obviously about to ask – or demand Sam tell him – what's bothering him, but he just closes his lips, brow furrowing, usually bright green eyes dull and flat.

For the first time since they started this, Sam goes home early, heart heavy, sure that he's fucked up the best relationship he's ever had by wanting too much, by falling too fast and hard.

Dean's avoidance carries into the work week. He doesn't call Sam just to hear his voice, doesn't call Sam up to his office with the excuse of needing tech support just so they can make out a little and the two nights Sam ends up having to work late he's the only one in the building aside from the night security guard.

By the time Friday has rolled back around Sam's sure that things are over between them. He leaves work early, right after lunch, claiming that he's sick. It's not a complete lie, he is pretty sick to his stomach, knowing that he pushed Dean away.

But Dean Smith certainly has a way of surprising Sam and keeping him on his toes.

He's curled up in a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt that's actually Dean's that he'd accidently worn home, when there's a knock at his door. Sam frowns as he pushes himself up from the couch, not sure who would be knocking on his door this time of night. Probably his landlord or someone lost, looking for another apartment.

He stops cold when he swings open the door, blinking owlishly at Dean standing in the hallway of his apartment building, looking so out of place in his expensive, impeccable suit that it's actually a little painful.

“What're you doing here?” Sam finally finds his voice to ask.

“You left work early,” Dean states, a slight frown on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam mutters, his own frown deepening. “Why?”

Dean's jaw clenches and he inhales deeply, looking up and down the hallway before refocusing on Sam. “Can we go inside?” he asks, tone cold and brisk. “Or better yet can you get your stuff so we can go back to my place?”

“What?” Sam asks, truly confused. “Why?”

“Because I don't want to have this conversation, or attempt to have this conversation, in the fucking hallway.”

Sam takes a step back, giving Dean room to enter his apartment. Dean has never been here and he's obviously out of place, just highlighting yet another difference between them.

“What're you doing here, Dean?” Sam asks softly. They're still standing right next to the front door, Sam's whole body frozen.

“First I wanted to make sure you're okay. No one would really tell me anything.” He pauses, cool calculating gaze moving over him from head to toe. “ _Are_ you okay?” he finally asks, tone slightly softer. It hurts Sam's heart.

“Yeah,” he breathes, trying to force a smile. He's pretty sure he fails miserably. “Just a bit of an upset stomach. I'll be fine.”

Dean nods, jaw clenching slightly. “It's Friday,” he eventually states when the silence goes on too long, bordering on extremely uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees with a nod, not sure where Dean's going with this.

“Are you too sick to come over?”

Sam blinks owlishly, lips opening and closing but no sound coming out. Eventually he manages to whisper, “Why?”

Dean sighs, his shoulders slumping just slightly. He stares at Sam for a few long moments before closing the small bit of distance between them, gently pressing Sam up against the wall. Even the small bit of contact, just a hint of Sam's Dom, makes him tremble and he has to fight the urge to drop to his knees right the fuck now and beg Dean – beg him to not be done with Sam, beg him to love Sam back.

Dean slides one hand into Sam's hair, pulling a bit on the messy strands. Sam can't bite back a moan, his eyes fluttering closed. Soft, plump lips brush against his and Sam trembles even more, barely resisting reaching out and clinging to Dean.

“Get your stuff, Sam,” Dean commands, _that_ voice and Sam moans softly, tilting his head enough that Dean pulls his hair more. “You have three minutes.” Sam's eyes snap open and he whimpers when Dean pulls away. “Go,” Dean urges him, jerking his chin toward the hallway leading to Sam's bedroom. “We'll continue this at home.”

_Home_. Sam's heart slams against his ribs.

It takes Sam less than three minutes to grab some clothes and the few things he'll need and pack his bag. Dean raises an eyebrow and flashes him a small smile – nothing like the smiles Sam is used to getting from him – presses his hand to the small of Sam's back and leads him downstairs and to his car. The trip is made in silence, but Dean's hand is warm and heavy on Sam's thigh the entire time.

Dean leads him into his condo – hand once again pressing against Sam's back. He gently pushes Sam toward the hall leading to his bedroom. “Go ahead and put your stuff down. I'll be here. You want anything?” Dean's voice isn't cold any more, but it isn't warm either. It seems like they're merely friends. Or maybe just work acquaintances. Sam isn't sure how much more his poor heart can take.

“No, thank you,” he whispers as he heads down the familiar hallway, dropping his bag just inside the door. Usually he'd kick his shoes off and get comfortable, but he doesn't know what's going on, doesn't honestly know how long he'll be staying.

Dean's in the kitchen when he gets back. He's taken his suit jacket off and loosened his tie, his sleeves rolled up to right below his elbows. He's so beautiful it makes Sam _ache_ , his throat tightening painfully. Dean glances up at him and gestures toward the couch. “Have a seat.”

Sam does as he's told, sitting on the edge of the cushion, nerves making him sweat. He has to bite the inside of his cheek almost bloody to keep from babbling. He babbles sometimes when he's nervous.

Dean joins him right away, elbows on his thighs, head turned toward Sam. “Now, let's try this again,” Dean says quietly. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Sam whispers. “Just an upset stomach earlier. I'm fine now.”

Dean shakes his head, huffing out a soft sigh. “Don't lie to me, Sam. Please.”

Sam knows he can't lie to Dean for shit but he also can't really tell him the truth either. “Okay,” Sam sighs. “So my stomach is still upset. No big deal.”

Dean's brow furrows and he turns more toward Sam. “Have I done something to upset you?”

Sam blinks owlishly, shaking his head before Dean can even finish the question. “No, of course not.”

“Then what's wrong?” Dean asks, holding up one hand when Sam opens his lips. “The truth, Sam.”

Sam sighs and closes his eyes, unable to look at Dean. He feels like an idiot. “You... You've been avoiding me all week,” he whispers. “Kinda figured you were just done with me.”

A warm hand cups his cheek and Sam swallows thickly, unable to resist leaning into the touch just a little. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Sam opens his eyes, a few traitorous tears leaking down his cheeks. “First, if I was done, I'd tell you,” Dean murmurs, thumb brushing away the tears. “I'm not an asshole like that, Sam. I'd never just drop you without warning, without talking about it.” Sam nods and forces a slightly strained smile. “As for the past week,” Dean continues, sighing softly. “It's not an excuse but I have been pretty busy.”

“I understand,” Sam replies softly.

“But that isn't all,” Dean mutters, rolling his eyes. “Last Friday, I knew something was wrong with you and it upset me that you wouldn't, or couldn't, talk to me about it. So, I handled it all wrong and spent the week sulking instead of talking to you.” Sam swallows thickly, a few more tears breaking free, Dean's thumb brushing them away. “So, I'm sorry,” Dean murmurs, leaning forward, lips brushing against Sam's. It's on the tip of his tongue to blurt out what was wrong, what he's been thinking, the gentle, sweet kiss making it almost impossible to bite back the words.

“I'm sorry too,” Sam whispers against Dean's lips, melting against his chest when Dean wraps an arm around his waist.

“I said it already and I meant it,” Dean says softly, kissing down his jaw to his neck, the crook of his shoulder. “You can talk to me about anything, tell me anything. I _want_ you to, sweetheart.”

Sam closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, moaning softly when Dean scrapes his teeth over Sam's thundering pulse. “It's not...” he trails off, another moan escaping when Dean bites down a little harder. “It's just... It's my issues, things in my head,” Sam mutters, quickly losing control of his brain to mouth filter. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I worry 'cause I care,” Dean breathes against his ear and Sam's heart slams against his ribs. He pulls away – much to Sam's displeasure – and grabs both sides of Sam's face, making Sam look at him. “If there's something wrong or just something you need to talk about, you can tell me.” Dean smiles softly, thumb rubbing over Sam's bottom lip. “That's what I'm here for, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

“To listen to me whine about shit?” Sam blurts out.

Dean chuckles and pulls Sam against his side completely, relaxing back into the couch cushions. “If that's what you need,” he agrees, shrugging one shoulder. “I mean, hell, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?”

Sam blinks owlishly, heart beating so hard it's almost painful. “Is that what you are?” he whispers.

“Well yeah,” Dean shrugs. “I mean, it's kind of high schoolish but it's what we are. If you don't like boyfriend we could use partner or something else.” He tilts his head to the side, silently searching Sam's eyes for a few moments. “Is that not something you want?” he asks softly.

“No, I do,” Sam answers quickly, feeling his cheeks flush. But he can't stop now that he's started, that Dean brought this up. “I want it, I've felt like that from the beginning. I just... I wasn't sure what you wanted, what this was to you,” Sam's voice breaks, his throat tight, eyes wide when he realizes what all he just said.

“You could'a just asked, baby,” Dean replies softly.

“I didn't wanna push. Or push you away,” Sam admits quietly.

“Is that what you were thinking about last week?”

Sam licks his lips and cuddles closer to Dean, hiding his face in his boyfriend's neck. _Boyfriend_. God, Sam feels like a freaking teenage girl, getting all flustered over a simple word.

“Sammy?”

“Sorta,” Sam eventually answers honestly, voice barely above a whisper. “Partly.”

“Wanna tell me about it?” Dean asks quietly, fingers carding through Sam's hair.

Sam nuzzles under Dean's jaw, presses a kiss to his neck. “Can we... Later okay?” he asks quietly. “I haven't seen you all week.” Sam knows he's pouting – and not to mention putting off the inevitable, no way Dean won't push him now – but he really just wants this, having Dean's arms around him, being pressed up against his side.

Dean hums softly and brushes a kiss to Sam's temple. “Okay,” he murmurs.

Sam pulls his head back enough to look up at Dean, smiling when Dean kisses him, sweet and chaste. “Thank you,” Sam whispers.

“No need to thank me, baby,” Dean tightens his arms around Sam, pulling him closer, “I haven't seen you all week either.” 

Sam smiles and hides his face in the crook of Dean's neck again, his eyes sliding closed as Dean rubs one hand up and down his back, the touch at once soothing and arousing. He tilts his head slightly, lips brushing against warm flesh, can feel Dean's pulse pick up slightly. Feeling bold, Sam's hand slides over Dean's stomach, right above the waist of his pants, fingers slipping between the buttons of his shirt, tips teasing against the soft hair below Dean's belly button.

Dean tightens his arm around Sam even more and slides one hand into his hair, pulling his head back again. Their eyes lock for a few seconds before Dean dips down and kisses him again, slow and deep and passionate. Sam entire body reacts instantly, his heart pounding against his ribs, heated blood rushing through his veins, his cock twitching to life. Before he can think too hard – and manage to let his nerves and shyness take over, can talk himself out of it – Sam slides one leg over Dean's, carefully crawling into his lap. 

Dean groans against his lips, the kiss deepening even more, his hands sliding down Sam's back, over the swell of his ass. Sam moans in response and rocks forward, cock hardening further when he feels how hard Dean is, his cock tenting the front of his pants. After a few long moments, Dean pulls back, lips kiss-bruised, eyes dark and lust-blown, staring up at Sam. “Wanna go to bed, sweetheart?” he asks softly. Sam licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one, jerks his head in a quick nod. Dean smiles softly and pats his ass. “Need to let me up, Sammy,” he murmurs, tone deep and gravely yet teasing.

Sam reluctantly climbs off Dean's lap, unable to bite back a smile when Dean stands up and grabs his hand, tugging gently to lead him down the hallway to his bedroom. Once there, Dean turns to him, quickly and efficiently stripping Sam's sweats and shirt off, growling softly, playfully, when he notices that Sam hadn't bothered with underwear earlier. 

To Sam's surprise, Dean undresses himself just as quickly, once again taking Sam's hand and leading him the rest of the way to the bed, climbing onto the mattress and tugging Sam with him, silently urging Sam back in his lap. He slides one hand up Sam's back, fingers sinking into his hair, the other kneading his hip. “Grab the stuff for me?” Dean asks softly.

Sam nods and leans over, grabbing the bottle of lube from the drawer of the bedside table, fingers brushing over the condoms before pulling his hand back, handing off the bottle to Dean, chewing on his bottom lip, nerves surging through him again at the thought of asking Dean to go bare. Dean doesn't say anything, just takes the lube and pours some over his fingers, reaching around Sam's waist, teasing the tips around his entrance for a moment before gently pushing both inside him, eyes locked on Sam's the entire time. 

Dean spends a long time working him open, longer than he usually does, and he's uncharacteristically quiet, heated gaze never leaving his face. By the time he pulls his fingers away, Sam's so hard it's almost painful and he feels open and wet, almost sloppy with lube and he's on the verge of sobbing with need. Dean kisses him, sweet and chaste, when Sam makes a soft, unhappy noise in the back of his throat. He tightens his other hand on Sam's hip and smiles up at him. “You gonna stay there?” he asks softly.

Sam blinks slowly, truly confused. Since this started between them, Dean has _always_ been in charge, the one calling all the shots. And Sam is definitely okay with that. But this time feels different. There's been no teasing, no begging, and Dean actually asked him instead of commanded. It's unsettling and Sam doesn't know what to make of it.

“Sammy?” Dean's brow furrows, concern edging out the lust in his eyes when Sam refocuses on him. “You okay, baby?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam mutters, flashing Dean a smile.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Sam answers again, leaning forward to press a kiss to Dean's lips, hands braced on his chest.

“So you wanna stay there?” Dean asks again.

Sam nods, barely resists asking Dean if that's what he wants, or better yet, asking him what the hell is going on. Dean smiles again and squeezes his hip, leaning up to brush a kiss to the side of Sam's lips. “Grab me a condom?” he murmurs.

Sam inhales deeply, bites down on his bottom lip, and takes the bottle of lube from Dean's hand. Dean's eyebrows raise, his head tilting to the side. “Can I ask something?” Sam whispers. “Or well, ask for something?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Dean answers easily, smiling softly at him. 

Sam inhales deeply, exhales slowly, and closes his eyes, not wanting to risk seeing whatever expression is on Dean's face. “Can we... I don't...” he squeezes his eyes closed tighter, his whole body trembling. “I wanna feel you,” he eventually stammers, voice barely more than a breath of sound. “ _Just_ you.”

Dean's hand tightens even more on his hip, the hold nearly painful. “Sam,” Dean murmurs. Sam can't tell by his tone how he feels about his request. “Look at me?” Dean asks, once again confusing Sam by not ordering him to. “Please, baby?” Sam forces his eyes open and looks up at Dean through his lashes. “You don't wanna use a condom?” he half-asks, brows raised.

“No?” Sam breathes, half-question, shaking so hard at this point there's no way Dean doesn't feel it, his erection mostly gone. “I mean, if that's okay. Or if you don't want to either. Or if you do, it's okay,” Sam blurts out, eyes widening when he realizes he's babbling, his cheeks flushing hot. “Sorry,” he mutters, cringing, moving to crawl off Dean's lap.

Dean's hands clamp down hard on his waist, keeping him still. “Sammy,” Dean says softly. “Calm down and take a breath, sweetheart.” Sam takes a few shaky breaths, unable to look away from Dean now for some reason. “That's better,” Dean smiles, loosening his hold on Sam but not letting go. “I'm not upset,” he continues, obviously knowing Sam well enough to know that that's one of his biggest worries. “I just wanna make sure I understand what you're asking, okay?” Sam nods, once again chewing on his lip. It's a nervous habit he just can't break. Dean reaches up and gently pulls his lip free, rubbing his thumb softly over the sensitive flesh. “Are you sure that's something you want?” Sam nods again. “Gotta tell me, baby.”

“Yes,” Sam whispers. “I... I've never went without. I know I'm clean.” He takes another deep breath, a little steadier this time. “And I wanna feel you,” he says again, cheeks flushing even hotter. His face has to be blood red at this point.

“You trust me that much?” Dean asks softly.

Sam blinks owlishly, truly surprised. He kind of thought that would have been obvious by now. “Of course,” Sam answers quickly, easily. He does, trusts Dean more than he's ever trusted anyone. And because Sam is so caught up in that beautiful, intense emerald gaze, he adds, completely without thinking, “I love you.”

When he hears his own words, all the nerves – more in fact – come rushing back and he inhales sharply, quickly scrambling off Dean's lap before he can stop him this time. He's got to get out of here, can't believe he just blurted that out like that. Sure, he'd planned on telling Dean what's been bothering him, what he's been thinking about, but he _hadn't_ planned on saying _that_. 

Dean grabs him around his waist and easily pulls him back into the middle of the bed, pinning Sam beneath him, Dean pushing between his legs, both hands cradling Sam's face. “Sam,” Dean says sharply and Sam only then realizes that he's got his eyes squeezed closed again and he's struggling to get away, begging softly to be let go. “Stop it.” Sam settles immediately, Dean using _that_ tone. “That's it, sweetheart,” he praises, voice soft once again. “Now open your eyes and look at me.”

Sam sniffles softly and forces his eyes open, steeling himself for whatever expression is on Dean's face. He's not prepared for what he sees. Dean's eyes and smile are soft, that unreadable look in his eyes again. “Are you okay?” Dean asks softly. Sam shakes his head no. “What's wrong?”

“Seriously?” Sam asks softly, incredulously. “I said...” his voice breaks and he huffs a sigh. “Well, you heard me.”

“Did you mean it?” Dean asks simply. Sam's eyes water, tears stinging the corners, as he stares up at Dean, silently begging him not to make him answer. “Truth, Sam.” Sam sighs again and nods. “Then there's nothing wrong,” he murmurs.

“What?” Sam breathes.

Dean licks his lips, brow furrowing slightly. “I, uh, I told you I'm not good at this relationship stuff,” he mutters. It's one of the very few times Sam's seen Dean anything less than confident and in control. He wants to tell Dean that he's wrong, that he's very good at the relationship stuff. Sam fell in love for a reason, after all. “Which also means that I'm not good at emotions,” Dean adds, nose wrinkling adorably. “But I... I love you, too,” he whispers.

Sam's lips part, eyes widening. “You do?” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Dean smiles softly, dipping down to brush a kiss to his lips.

Sam is sure that Dean probably meant to kept it chaste but Sam throws his arms around Dean's shoulders, holding tight as he pushes to deepen the kiss, for the first time in their relationship just _taking_ what he wants, what he needs. Dean makes a soft, surprised noise but kisses him back eagerly. Sam's legs wrap around Dean's waist and he tilts his hips, their cocks brushing together. They both harden again instantly and Sam moans softly, tilts his hips higher, rubbing against Dean, his cock sliding along the cleft of Sam’s ass. “Please, Dean?” Sam begs into the kiss, the words smeared against Dean's lips. “Need you.”

Dean pulls his hips back just enough to line himself up, pushing into Sam, sinking in balls deep in one perfect thrust. They both freeze, pulling away from the kiss, eyes locking together. Dean's eyes are dark and heated, which is normal, but Sam's finally able to name that unreadable expression: Love. It takes his breath away, his heart pounding even harder against his chest, his whole body once again trembling. “Dean,” he whispers hoarsely. Dean smiles down at him, both hands sliding into his hair, fingers curling into loose fists. “Oh God, please move?” Sam gasps.

Dean shifts his weight a little, elbows on the mattress on either side of Sam's head, their chests pressed together tightly. He pulls back slowly, jaw clenching, then thrusts back in, a little harder, a little faster. Sam can feel every bare inch, so thick and long and hard inside him and it makes his own cock even harder, fresh pre-come oozing from the tip and smearing against their stomachs. It's unlike anything he's ever felt, so good that it's almost _too_ good. He didn't honestly think sex with Dean could get any better but he was so very wrong. 

They fall into a rhythm easily, months together leaving them perfectly in sync. Sam moans and arches, writhing beneath Dean as he meets every thrust. Dean changes the angle just slightly, drags over Sam's prostate and he can't help the moan that tears from his throat, his eyes squeezing closed, head pressing into the pillow, arching his neck.

Dean holds him tighter, arms sliding beneath him when Sam's back arches, licking and sucking and biting at Sam's throat, over his thundering pulse. Sam's sure that he's leaving behind bruises and the thought just makes him cling to Dean tighter, short fingernails dragging down Dean's sweat-slick back. Dean's never marked him where others would be able to easily see, keeping bites and bruises below his collarbones. Just knowing that anyone will be able to look at him and see the physical proof of Dean's claim nearly has him coming.

“Fuck,” Dean rasps against his ear, teeth scraping the lobe. “Feels so good, baby. Always so tight and hot.” He bites the sensitive skin beneath Sam's ear, strong fingers gripping Sam's shoulders. “Love feelin' you,” he continues, voice a low, sensuous purr. “Feelin' you clench down around me, fuckin' you bare...” he trails off on a deep, almost pained sounding moan. “So amazing, sweetheart.” Sam mewls, lifts his legs and wraps them around Dean's waist, one hand sliding up into Dean's short hair. “Feel good, baby?”

Sam can't do much beside moan in agreement. His entire body is on fire and he can already feel his orgasm creeping up on him, heat pooling in his stomach, the base of his spine tingling. Dean's taught him a lot about restraint in the past few months but Sam honestly isn't sure he can hold out this time.

“Dean, please,” he begs breathlessly.

Dean pulls his head back enough to look down at Sam, lust-dark, stormy-green eyes locking with his. “What, Sammy?” Dean murmurs. “What'd'ya need? Tell me.”

“More,” Sam moans, tightening his legs around Dean's waist. “Harder, deeper... _More_. So close... Fuck, please...” he trails off on another moan, fingers digging into Dean's back. “I can't... Dean,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes closed. He feels out of control, lost, needs more than ever for Dean to keep him together, keep him from flying apart, to take control.

“Shh, easy, baby,” Dean coos, gently carding his fingers through Sam's hair. Despite Sam's begging, he's slowed down, rolling his hips gently, almost as if he's afraid to hurt Sam, thrusts shallow and nearly timid. “Open your eyes for me, Sammy.” Sam does, embarrassed to feel a few tears trickle down his flushed cheeks. Dean smiles softly and drops a chaste kiss to his lips, thumbs gently wiping away the salty, wet tracks. “That's my good boy,” he praises, tone soft and warm, and Sam shivers, cock twitching where it is trapped between their stomachs. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart. Tell me what's wrong.”

“Too close,” Sam whispers, feeling like a disappointment. He's worked so hard to be good for Dean, to follow his commands and his lead and the thought of disappointing him is too much. “'m sorry,” he adds, barely a sound.

“Shh,” Dean murmurs. “It's okay, baby.” Sam opens his trembling lips, head already shaking back and forth. “It is,” Dean assures him before Sam can even speak. He stops moving completely, still buried to the hilt inside Sam, gentle hands cupping his cheeks. “Want you to come whenever you feel it, sweetheart. Don't worry 'bout the other stuff.” He smiles, almost shyly and Sam's surprised to see a faint pink blush creep across his freckled cheeks. “This, tonight, it's... different, okay? Don't hold anything back.”

Sam licks his lips and nods, warmth filling his body, his stomach swooping. Dean dips down and kisses him again, wet and passionate as he picks up the pace again. The short break didn't do anything to calm him or push back his orgasm, still just on the edge of release. “Don't wanna come,” he mutters, belatedly realizing that he said that out-loud. Dean quirks an eyebrow. “Don't want this to be over so soon,” he explains softly.

Dean's eyes glitter as a sexy, filthy smirk pulls up one side of his lips. “Don't worry, baby,” he drawls, picking up the pace, fucking into Sam hard and fast and deep. “Not even _close_ to do with you yet.”

The low growl, the words, the intent _behind_ the words, the fleeting glimpse of _Master_ for the first time tonight sends Sam over the edge. He cries out, clinging to Dean's broad shoulders, his untouched cock jerking and twitching, release smearing between their stomachs. Dean fucks him through it and the shivery aftershocks, thrusting into Sam almost brutally, drawing the pleasure out until it's almost painful.

“That's it, baby,” Dean damn-near purrs, only slowing down a little when Sam's cock starts to soften. “So fuckin' beautiful when you come for me, just from me fuckin' you.”

Sam moans weakly, boneless legs falling from around Dean's waist. Dean gives him another quick, dirty kiss before pulling back, pulling _out_ , much to Sam's confusion. His eyes widen and he tries to make his lead-heavy arms work long enough to reach out and pull him back. But Dean flashes him a wink before sliding down his body, eyes locked on Sam's as he swallows Sam's mostly soft cock down without preamble. 

Sam's whole body jerks, back arching, nearly screaming when he's engulfed in tight, wet heat. “ _Dean_ ,” he whimpers, oversensitive and still bleary from his orgasm.

Dean winks at him again and gently grips the base of his dick in one hand, bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks, tongue laving across the tip. Sam squirms, can't decide if he wants to push into the feeling or pull away, fingers clenching in the messy sheet beneath him, eyes squeezing closed. To his surprise – and Dean's obvious delight – it doesn't take long for him to lengthen and harden again, his body enjoying the pained pleasure even as his mind recoils from it.

Dean starts sucking in earnest when he's fully hard again, taking him deep, the head brushing the back of Dean's throat, his hand dropping down between Sam's legs, two fingers circling around his rim, pushing in deep to tease at his prostate. Sam cries out, nearly sobbing, unable to stop his hips from twisting, thrusting up into Dean's mouth then down onto his thick fingers.

He doesn't know how long it's been but he's already skating the edge again, dangerously close to coming a second time, when Dean pulls away. Sam whimpers, trembling with too much yet not enough. Dean's eyes are impossibly dark, darker than Sam's ever seen, intense in a way that makes a shiver move down his spine, his stomach twisting, groin tightening. He leans over Sam, no part of their bodies touching and dips down, kissing him hard and fast, tongue sliding wet and messy against Sam's, teeth nipping, leaving Sam's lips tingling and numb when he pulls back.

Sam blinks slowly as he watches Dean settle down next to him, sitting up, back against the headboard. “C'mere,” he murmurs, reaching out for Sam, strong hands steadying him when Sam sways once he's on his knees. Fingers digging into his hips, Dean pulls him closer, settling Sam in his lap, Sam's legs tightening around his lean hips. “Ride me,” Dean half-commands, staring up at Sam with an intensity that makes him want to pull away and hide yet bask in at the same time.

Sam reaches back and grips the base of Dean's cock, holding him steady as he sinks down on the thick length, lips parting, eyes fluttering closed. Dean's hands slide up his sides, down over his hips, around his waist and up his back, the touch simultaneously soothing and intoxicating. Planting his hands on Dean's chest, Sam slowly starts to move, rocking back and forth, grinding down, circling his hips, Dean's moans heating his stomach, making his cock twitch. He works up to a steady rhythm, rocking his hips and lifting himself up nearly all the way, leaving just the tip of Dean's cock inside him then slams back down, harder and faster with each thrust, taking Dean deep as possible, hips tilted to make sure Dean hits his sweet spot on every other downstroke. 

“Fuck,” Dean growls, hands finally settling on Sam's hips, fingers digging in bruise-tight. “Feels so fuckin' amazing, baby. Look so fuckin' hot, so sexy, ridin' my cock.” 

Sam's back arches, head tipping back, thigh muscles burning pleasantly. “So good, Dean,” he breathes, sliding his hands up to Dean's shoulders, tightening his fingers in the thick muscles. “Love how you feel inside me.”

Dean hums and leans forward, lips brushing Sam's collarbone, sliding down his chest, latching around his nipple, flicking his tongue and sucking until it pulls tight, leaving it aching pleasantly before moving to the other side and repeating the process. He bites and sucks bruises into Sam's chest, his shoulders, hands sliding around his hips, fingers splayed wide over his ass, pulling his cheeks apart, tips of his fingers brushing where they're connected.

Sam mewls and picks up the pace, clawing at Dean's shoulders, clenching down around his cock. He's close again, wants to make sure to take Dean with him when he tumbles over the edge this time.

“You close again, sweetheart?” Dean asks softly, likely already knowing he is, knowing Sam's body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than Sam knows himself. “Gonna come on my cock again?”

“Yes,” Sam hisses, lifting his head back up, finally reopening his eyes, gaze locking with Dean's. “So close.” He leans forward, chests pressed together, lips ghosting over Dean's. “Wanna feel you come inside me,” he adds, barely above a whisper.

Dean growls, his fingers digging into Sam's ass, hips snapping up to meet every one of Sam's thrusts. In the end, they come together, or as close together as possible, and through the hazy pleasure of his own climax Sam swears he can feel the liquid warmth of Dean's release filling him up.

He collapses against Dean's chest, face pressed against his neck, as they hold each other through the shivery, trembling aftershocks. Dean's got one hand in his hair, gently carding through the sweat-damp strands and Sam closes his eyes, smiling softly when Dean brushes a kiss to the top of his head. 

Sam doesn't move, even when Dean's cock softens and slips from his body. He's comfortable and content, sore in the best possible way and the last thing he wants to do is move. Dean wraps his arms around him, holding him close, seeming like he's in no real hurry for Sam to move either.

“Is this what you've been worrying about? What was wrong last Friday?” Dean eventually asks softly after several long minutes of comfortable silence. Sam inhales deeply, his body tensing. “I'm just askin', sweetheart,” Dean continues, gently rubbing one hand up and down his back.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes.

“Wanna tell me about it?” It's phrased like a question but Sam's pretty sure it isn't.

“I, uh, I was afraid,” Sam mutters, snuggling closer. 

“Of what?”

“Scaring you away,” Sam admits softly. 

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks quietly, hand sliding up the back of his neck, into his hair, tips of his fingers rubbing his scalp.

“I was afraid it was too soon, that you might not feel the same, that what I wanted was too much, too big of a commitment.” Sam sighs softly and nuzzles under Dean's jaw. “I just didn't want to lose you.”

“I get it,” Dean murmurs. “But you gotta know, you can talk to me about anything.”

Sam inhales deeply, exhales slowly. “I do,” he replies softly. Dean tugs gently on his hair and Sam pulls his head back, meeting Dean's eyes. “I do,” he repeats, smiling softly.

“I love you,” Dean murmurs.

“I love you, too,” Sam rasps, leaning back in and resting his head on Dean's shoulder again. He may have almost fucked this up, let his insecurities tear them apart, but he knows now that they're going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This series is now officially complete.


End file.
